


A Baited Line

by flandersmare



Series: Figrid February 2016 [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Day 5, Everybody Lives, F/M, Family Dinners, Fígrid February, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Pre-Relationship, diplomatic missions, fyeahfigrid, sort of meeting the family, that double as negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flandersmare/pseuds/flandersmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The heirs of Thorin, King Under The Mountain, take the opportunity to foster relations with their closest neighbour and ally and break bread together. </p><p>Or</p><p>Checking for dietary requirements is a thing that really ought to be observed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Baited Line

Fili burst through the moth eaten hanging cloth that served as a door and skidded into the room, just in time to see his brother pitching over the rail of the balcony to the accompaniment of dry heaving.

‘Kili!’

Kili didn’t respond immediately but a hand flew up to flail frantically above the rail in between bouts of retching.

‘Oh spare me, Kili get a grip!’

Taking hold of his brother’s shoulders, Fili dragged him back over the rail, Kili protesting every inch of the way. He moaned as his world righted itself, slumping to his knees on the creaking floor boards and staring blearily at the snow flecked street below them. Fili took a knee besides his brother and shook him roughly by the shoulder, even as his own hands shock slightly. ‘Listen to me,’ he said his voice low and urgent. ‘Get it together. What in the name of Mahal were you thinking? Bolting like that?’

Kili just groaned again, pitching forward to rest his forehead against the balusters. ‘How can you be so calm?!’ he spat, flapping Fili’s hand away. ‘How can you just sit there and smile and not even twitch? Are you dead inside?!’ Kili covered his face with his hands and shuddered, ‘Oh Mahal, I can still _feel_ them. Their eyes. The stink!’

‘Oh, believe me, I am containing it,’ Fili snarled, getting a grip on Kili’s jaw and wrenching his brother’s face around until they were nose to nose. ‘And you know why I’m containing it? Because we are here on behalf of Erebor, Kili. We are here on behalf of Uncle, of Mother, on the behalf of all of Durin’s folk. Every single sodding one of us.’ Here he poked Kili in the chest. Maybe a little more roughly than he intended. He was a little strained at this very moment. ‘This is no time for your delicate constitution!’ he hissed as Kili’s rubbed at his sternum with a resentful look.

‘But it’s-‘

‘I know what it is!’

Kili blinked down at the hand suddenly fisted in the front of his shirt and his followed the line of the arm up into the face. And flinched slightly. The older prince’s face was veneer of regimented calm, but Kili could see the hysteria swirling in his eyes. Kili swallowed.

Fili had been acting as their Uncle’s regent for about 3 months now. Their Uncle was still confined to his bed chamber by his wounds. He was healing slowly, healing well, under Dwarven, Elven and a Wizard’s tending and his own personal Hobbit nurse, but since the day of the Battle of the Five Armies, people had been coming to Fili. Barely on his feet and still bleeding and it was; Where did he plan to billet the Iron Hills dwarves? Could he come and treat with the hosts of Men and Elves right this second? What was to be done about the dead? How should we send word to the other Dwarven Kingdoms? How are we to feed the refugees?

True, he’d had the support of Dain and Balin and he’d had the complete trust of Thorin, and Thorin had been coaching him for this his entire life in little ways and gentle nudges, but the strain had been immense and instant. After the immediate issues had been arranged for, Dain had departed for the Iron Hills to bring the resources and support. But the mad old maverick had been the only buffer Fili had been afforded and with him gone, it had all hit anew. Now, the winter was retreating, the ground was thawing and word was starting to come from every corner of Middle Earth of Kings and Princes and Lords requesting audiences with the leader of Durin’s Folk. And right at this minute, the acting leader of Durin’s folk had his baby brother on the floor of Bard, Lord of Dale’s, house by the collar of his shirt with Bard, his family and close advisors two rooms over.

Kili patted his brother’s hand as the tension slipped out of him and he slumped forward to knock their foreheads together. ‘Listen to me,’ Fili sighed. ‘Listen. We go back in there. You apologise for your odd behaviour. We sit down. We _enjoy_ the food that has been so generously put in front of us. And we do all that we can for Erebor and her people.’ He drew back and looked his brother hard in the eye. ‘We praise good Lady Sigrid on the feast she had provided us, we engage young Lord Bain in the talk of the men, and we charm young Lady Tilda. And,’ Fili reached out and gripped both of Kili’s shoulders back and forth gently, ‘we give absolutely no reason to sour relations between Uncle and Bard.’

‘Fili, we’re here for us as well you know,’ Kili murmured. ‘It’s you and Bard here, even if you are here because Uncle can’t be.’ Fili just growled lowly and let go, spinning away from his brother to pace back across the old floor boards, scrubbing his palms over his face. ‘And Bard likes you, right?’ Kili looked around as if expecting confirmation. ‘I mean, you got his children safely out of the fire storm and you fought besides him on the day of the Battle.’

‘It was mainly Tauriel, I was preoccupied dragging your sorry arse, oh, and we pretty much brought it all down on them!’

‘Still,’ Kili rushed forward to take his brother’s hands away from his face before he did any real damage. ‘Still, what makes you think you’ve got anything to fear from Bard? He’s always been a decent chap. If somewhat angry.’

Fili stared at his brother with wide imploring eyes from between the wrists Kili still held aloft. ‘Dragon-Slayer, Kili. That’s what he’s known as beyond the Rhovanion Valley.’

‘Well, you’re not a dragon!’

‘I don’t even want to comprehend your logic.’

‘Fili, what do you have to fear from this? Seriously? Bard is as keen for the alliance between the three kingdoms to work out.’ Kili gestured around wildly at the empty room. ‘I mean what are you planning to do?! Run off with his daughter?!’

_Helping him with his injured brother… Giving them clothes and food… Hiding them from the Master’s men… Begging with her father to take them in when no one else would touch them… Nursing Kili as he thrashed and writhed in agony… Throwing crockery in the faces of orcs even as she screamed… Her sooty and heartsick on the shores of the Long Lake… Watching her form shrink as they headed for the Mountain and the unknown… Hers being the second face he saw after passing out at the edge of the smouldering battlefield… The quiet words and gentle hands… Her encouraging smiles… Her face in the crowds before him… Their few and fleeting talks… Her cooking for them… Her wearing the hair comb he’d gifted her with… Her laugh… Her shy smiles…_

Fili just caught his brother’s arm in one tight hand, shut his eyes for one fortifying moment and held up an emphatic finger.

‘Point the first; her name is Sigrid. Point the second; don’t be ridiculous. Point the third; lower your voice. Point the forth;,’ and here he shoved Kili away from him and propelled him towards the door, ‘get your worthless arse back in there and undo the mess you’ve made. Now.’

Kili backed away, mollifying hands up as he went and a peculiar look upon his face. He made it to the doorway and half drew back the curtain before looking back at his brother with a smug look. ‘And Tilda.’

‘What?’ Fili felt something icy trickle down his spine, as if his body recognised the danger before his brain.

‘Sigrid, and Tilda.’ Kili said pointedly. ‘The names of Bard’s daughters. Two of them.’ And with that he disappeared through the curtain leaving his brother alone.

Part of Fili’s brain contemplated taking this opportunity to have a nice little panic, but was over ruled by the majority clamouring that leave Kili unattended in this situation would lead to nothing but trouble. He tore after his brother and back into the dining room of the house to find his brother pulling himself up from a bow.

‘I beg you forgive me, my friends,’ he was saying to the room at large. ‘I was overcome.’ He looked up a Bard where he stood at the head of the table. ‘The continued generosity and kindness of your family and people, my Lord, it does my soul well to see such a hand of friendship extended to my people after we have been so long without allies and without friends. I thank you, my Lord. From the bottom of my heart.’ Bard quirked an eyebrow but nodded his head in acquiescence, and Kili beamed. He strode around the table, ignoring the empty chair he’d left when he’d made an unplanned exit and instead came to stop in front of Sigrid. She was stood in the doorway back though to what passed as a kitchen in this reclaimed building in Dale, twisting a dish cloth back and forth in her hands. Without pausing, Kili took the cloth from her hands, lay it over his own shoulder and lifted her hands to his lips. ‘I thank you Mistress Sigrid,’ Kili continued, completely ignoring the gaze of his brother that was trying to set the back of his head on fire, ‘for your skill and hard work in preparing this feast for us. Truly we are indebted to you.’ Kili turned from Sigrid’s stunned expression to cast as look back over his shoulder at his brother with a winning smile. ‘It has been so long since a fair lass showed us anything kinder than mistrust. But here you have welcomed us, cared for us and feed us. As such food!’ Kili wave extensively at the table covered in baskets, bowls and plates. ‘Not since we left our dear mother have we felt so blessed to receive a lady’s care. I must beg your pardon. It has been many, many moons since we have seen our mother, I needed a moment.’ He once again bent over her hands as Sigrid blushed furiously. ‘Can you forgive me, my lady?’

Fili thought no less of Sigrid for nodding mute down at his brother. He’d seen seasoned warrior be taken out at the knee by Kili’s own personal combination of wide doe eyes and blinding smile. And bringing up their mother. A caddish move that one. Kili lead Sigrid to her own seat, before turning to his brother with a self-satisfied smile. It was there and gone again before anyone else saw it, but it made Fili’s fists curl. The despicable, silver tongued little sod had been doing his damndest to lose his breakfast over the banisters not three minutes ago and now…

Fili sat down a little more forcefully then necessary, drawing a raised eyebrow from Mistress Hilda-Bianca besides him and an inquisitive look from Bard on his other side.

He avoided her gaze, staring intently at the tabl-

Oh.

There it all was. What had started it all.

 _Fish_.       

Fish stew. Fish pie. Grilled fish. Poached fish. Fried fish. Broiled fish. Fish tarts. Fish pâté. Fish soup. Fish soufflé. Even the bleeding salad had fish in it. About the only thing clear of them were the potatoes and even then he was pretty sure they’d been fried alongside it.

 _Fish_.   

 _Mahal cursed fish_.

Fili swallowed thickly and did everything in his power to breathe through his ears.

Oh by the Maker, he could feel them all over him, tumbling down over him in a thundering cascade. Blocking out air and light. The cold, the wet and the stink sending hocks into his skin. Their weight crushing the breath from his chest. Their scales slicing into his skin. The innumerable slick, beady eyes staring at him.

‘Crown Prince Fili?’

Fili ducked his head and pressed a fist to his mouth, hard.

‘Prince Fili? Are you alright?’ Sigrid had stood in order to help pass dishes around. Bard must have given the leave to eat as Percy was portioning out some fish pie for an eager Tilda and Bain was pouring out measures of wine. She has leaning over the table towards him, concern etched into her face. Fili may have stared for a moment. In her time in the kitchen a few locks of hair had escaped the intricate up do she’d pinned in place with the topaz comb he’d gifted to her. She’d shed her shawl in front of the stove and now the light from the windows caught the line of her neck and shoulders through her smock shirt. She glowed.

‘My brother is fine, my lady,’ Kili said, smiling even is his bravado had waned being back on a level with their meal, Fili was satisfied to see. ‘Perchance, a little overcome?’

Sigrid looked back at Fili and made a little ‘oh’ face of realisation and, if possible blushed harder. She held out the dish of fried fillets and Fili could do nothing but take it from her. Without looking away from her dipped face, Fili slide a heavy piece of white flesh onto his plate. She smiled and took the plate back once he proffered it back to her. Salad and potatoes somehow made it onto his plate. Soon he had a warm roll of bread in his fist and a cup of wine beside his plate. And across from him, Sigrid held a dish for her father to spoon out stew onto his own plate.

Fili cast a look down at Kili. He’d engaged Bain in animated conversation, the topic he couldn’t hear, but he was matching Tilda mouthful for mouthful. Admittedly with more sips of wine between then would be considered normal, but it would need a lot of wine to have any real effect on Kili’s bearing. And considering Kili’s usual behaviour, it may not be noticed at all.     

Fili picked up his fork and looked across the table once more. Sigrid was smiling at her father as he made appreciative noises at his first mouthful. The happy little glow in her cheeks had Fili gripping hs fork handle tighter. Her eyes flicked across to him before he could look away and he found himself pinned. He looked down at his plate, still untouched.

He’d faced down trolls, skin-changers, orc pack, the River Running in full swell, a dragon, the hordes of the Misty Mountains and Gundabad, and most recently, the delegation from the Sea of Rhûn.

He looked up again into Sigrid concerned face, took a deep breath and picked up his fork.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The table’s conversation had started to slow once bellies were filled. Bard’s children stood from the table when their father leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Tilda picked up the used cutlery, Bain started stacking the empty plates and Sigrid hefting the serving dishes off the table tops. Bard caught his eldest’s hand as she reached for a platter and gave it a squeeze in quiet thanks. Sigrid’s smile was soft and affectionate and she shook their hands as if to say ‘don’t be silly, it’s nothing’. Bard let her go and she stepped away, weighed down with dishes.

The meal had been the most enjoyable diplomatic meeting Fili had ever experienced. If it were not for the for the sheets of notes he’d made throughout the meal, unfortunately marked with grease but he doubted if anyone would begrudge him for that, he’d be hard pressed to believe that he’d just attended one of the longest council gathers he’d ever been to. He hadn’t curse this Uncle in his head once. Well, not since after the initial shock. But they’d made great progress. Hilda-Bianca had the numbers regarding what the people of Lake-Town had in the way of farming resources. Seed count was low at present but aid had been promised from the woodland realm when the weather was favourable. The old smithies had survived well considering the initial fire storm and the years of neglect but metal was being repurposed for ploughshares ready for the coming seasons and with rebuilding work limited by the weather. Fili really didn’t want to think too hard about what beautiful, no doubt dwarven made, blades were being beaten into farming tools but it’s true that while you can do many things with a shield, you can’t eat it.

Speaking of eating, Fili couldn’t remember when he’d felt this satisfied. Maybe back at Bilbo’s all those months ago, they’d all been a bit too on guard to truly enjoy Beorn’s hospitality. But the food, and he had to think of it as ‘food’ or ‘meat’ or things may get unpleasant, had been hot and hearty. Well-seasoned considering Lake-Towners, now Men of Dale, were working with what they could salvage, forage or the elves gifted. There hadn’t been much in the ways of left overs but, through the doorway, he could see Tilda and Bain plating up what was left and placing the bowls carefully into baskets.  

Fili looked down at his notes again. He’d noted what types of grains were in stock and what the few outlying farms that has escaped Smaug’s wrath could contribute. The names meant next to nothing to him. He’d ask Bilbo.

Fili quietly, hopefully, hoped that it had gone well. Bard had been very civil through the whole meal, although he kept sliding glances his way every time Fili took a bite of something. He tried not to notice that. He’d ingratiated himself with the man. Bard was currently sporting a sling on his left arm. There’d been an incident during reconstruction efforts and now he was strapped up and having difficulty passing, reaching and picking up anything that required two hands. Fili had lent two hands where he could, prompting more pleased smiles from Sigrid. Kili had found a fellow archer in Percy and they had been comparing tall tales as Tilda sat between them wide-eyed. Percy, Bain and Kili had talked men trained to the sword and bow, those volunteering for sentry posts, what measures the valley would require. In the months since the reclaiming of Erebor, Kili had seemed determined to map every foot of the kingdom above ground. He was more suited to discussing this with their neighbours. Fili couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen daylight before today’s meeting.

A shadow fell across the table and Sigrid was back, coming to collect the next arm full of dishes. The dying sun behind her once again caught in the halo of fly away hair. She blazed, and Fili could see the Maiar in her image. Kili’s bark of laughter cracked him out of his reverie and he had leapt to his feet before he knew what he was doing.   At this level, he could see her smiling and somehow, she was more blinding. He blinked at her dumbly for a moment until Bard cleared his throat quietly and Fili’s arms came up almost without his leave. Sigrid’s smile turned gentle and grateful and she deposited two of the empty dishes in his waiting hands. He trailed behind her as she moved into the kitchen, missing his brother’s smirking and mutely stood beside her, drying what she passed him. Together they washed and dried the dishes in silence.

‘I wanted to say thank you.’

Fili didn’t realise he’d broken the silence until Sigrid turned and faced him, looking expectant yet patient. ‘Thank you for what you and your family have done for me and mine.’ He found himself fiddling with the towel cloth and purposely put it aside before he rendered it to rags. ‘Kili’s the clever one when it comes to words, but I don’t think we can ever say thank you enough to you, to you all.’ Kili looked through the doorway to where Tilda had somehow ended up on Kili’s lap to better interject into the conversation. ‘Helping us when we first arrived, taking us in when no one else would or could.’ He chewed his lip and looked up at her earnestly. ‘And everything you’ve done since. I’m astonished that they weren’t calling for the heads of the Line of Durin on spikes in the wake of this mess. But you were willing to work with us, treat with us. See us at the table.’

‘I only cooked the meal.’

Fili caught her hand before he could think better of it. ‘And you are among a group that are few in number. Even fewer if we gone on folk that have actually invited us in.’ He rubbed is hands over hers and felt his own old burn scars fom the anvil glide against hers from the stove.

‘I’m just glad everything was to your taste,’ she said shyly.

Fili cocked his head. ‘Our taste?’

‘Yes. The fish.’

‘Yes, the fish,’ Fili parroted nonplussed. The two of them looked at the other waiting for them to explain. ‘What about the fish?’

Sigrid blinked and her face went uncertain, even if she made no move to remove her hands from his. ‘They’re a delicacy for dwarves, are they not? I was so relieved, as it is the one food stuff we can get fresh and in abundance now the ice is breaking.’       

Fili’s jaw worked soundlessly for a few seconds. ‘Delicacy?’ he croaked.

Sigrid frowned. ‘Da said that as your kin mainly live in mountain ranges and away from large rivers and the sea, you rarely have access to fresh fish and so it’s a rarity. Da thought it best we put on a go spread for you in that respect.’

_Oh, did he now?_

Fili felt the muscle in his jaw jump and Sigrid’s expression suggested she’d seen it.

Fili took a deep breath through his nose and bowed his head over he hands. He may represent Erebor and all her people, but Erebor and all her people were not the ones that endured hiding, for hours, in barrels of thrice damned fish.

‘Excuse me a moment please.’

He turned, leaving Sigrid confused in his wake and marched into the dining room.

When he burst back into the room, Bard was still in his seat at the head of the table, but Percy and Hilda-Bianca had moved, each taking a seat either side of Bard. Fili didn’t exactly know what his face was doing but it was enough to have Mistress Hilda-Bianca hiding a laugh behind her hands and for Percy to tip him a jaunty salute. Bard on the other hand, did nothing but held Fili’s rabid gaze. He raised this cup slowly, taking a deep pull before setting it back down on the table with a raised eye-brow.

And Fili found himself thinking a sentence that would haunt his dreams for many, many nights to come. Because, you never know what gifts killing a monstrous servant of unspeakable dark powers could leave a man with. The ability to hear thoughts? Immortality? Or perhaps just the capacity to be a complete rogue.

_Oh it is ON Dragonslayer!_

**Author's Note:**

> I maintain that Bard is the biggest troll going.


End file.
